


This Guy's In Love With You

by Professional_number_cruncher



Series: Radiator Springs verse [3]
Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Concussions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professional_number_cruncher/pseuds/Professional_number_cruncher
Summary: Sarge wasn't surewhatmade him stop and help a stranger at a protest.Meant to take place between chapters 8 and 9 of Crash and Burn
Relationships: Fillmore/Sarge (Cars)
Series: Radiator Springs verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040254
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Fillmore winced slightly at the doctor’s sigh. _That didn’t sound good_. “So you are concussed,” Doc said, “congratulations.”  
  
“...Thank you?” Fillmore offered, “I can drive still, right?”  
  
The man shook his head, “No. You can’t.”  
  
The hippie nodded for a while, then asked, “Can you give me a ride to the city?”  
  
Doc frowned, “I’d rather you stay in town so I can keep an eye on your head injury,”  
  
“I have folk to get back to,” he offered, “They can keep an eye on me.” Fil furrowed his brows, “And I have class.”  
  
The doctor sighed again, “You really shouldn’t be going to class for at least a week.”  
  
Fillmore sighed, deflating, “So...I’m stuck here.”  
  
“I’d prefer it if you stayed here for a while,” Doc nodded.  
  
“Well what do I do, man? Like...stay in that motel?”  
  
“Maybe,” Doc hummed, “I’m sure Sarge’ll keep you company”  
  
“That bootlicker?” Fil tilted his head, staring incredulously.  
  
Doc shrugged, “Yeah,”  
  
“...You don’t want him to sign his life away,” he concluded.  
  
“I don’t,” Doc answered honestly, “but I don’t see what that has to do with your concussion.”  
  
Fillmore laughed, “You want me to talk him out of it, don’t you, dude?”  
  
“Are you _that_ confident that you can?”  
  
“I can try,” he shrugged, grinning.  
  
“You seem excited to try,” Doc laughed.  
  
“Well, I don’t want our troops to grow, and the war is useless, so,” Fil hummed, “I am.”  
  
Doc smiled, “Alright, I’ll have the sheriff bring him down.”  
  
“How’re you gonna get him to agree?”  
  
Doc blinked, “You’re the one who keeps calling him a bootlicker. I’ll have Sher ask him.”  
  
“The Sheriff is that willing to misuse his authority? Sounds corrupt.”  
  
“I said _ask_ ,” Doc rolled his eyes.  
  
Fil shrugged, “Still sounds corrupt.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
“Yeah. Pretty sure it is,” Fillmore nodded.  
  
Doc hummed, “Then I’ll tell him to, doctor’s orders or whatever.”  
  
“Or whatever? Aren’t you a doctor?” Fil asked, “Why did you say or whatever?”  
  
Doc smiled, “Oh, no one here believes me.”  
  
“I can see why.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“I think you know,” Fillmore shrugged.  
  
“I really don’t. What part of my license is suspicious?”  
  
“You just don’t… seem like a doctor.”  
  
Jesse sighed, “You just think that cause you know I was a racer.”  
  
“Maybe so,” he shrugged.  
  
“So no one here has that excuse.”  
  
“Which means they just think you’re a fraud,” Fillmore nodded.  
  
“Yeah and I want to know why,” Doc frowned.  
  
“I don’t know,” he shrugged.  
  
“Maybe Sarge’ll tell you.” he joked.  
  
“Doesn’t he also know you’re a racer?”  
  
“Shit, yeah.”  
  
Fillmore laughed, “I’ll ask the sheriff.”  
  
“Thanks, kid.” Doc smiled slightly, “How’s your head feeling?”  
  
Fillmore shrugged, “Not great.”  
  
“Let me grab you some pain killers,” he nodded, “Sit tight, I’ll be back in a minute.” Jesse walked to a side room, grabbing some medicine and calling Flo’s Diner to talk to Sheridan. A few minutes later, he returned, holding out a glass of water and a pill bottle, “Here.”  
  
“Thank you,” Fil smiled as he took them.  
  
“I can trust you to be responsible with these, right?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Fil rolled his eyes, “I’ll be responsible with them.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sarge crossed his arms as he followed Sheriff into the clinic, “I don’t see why I need to come along.”

“Oh, about that,” the older man gestured to Fil, “We need you to keep an eye on Fillmore.”

“Why?” Sarge blinked.

“He’s concussed.” Jesse stated, “We need him to stay in town until I’m sure he’s better.”

“Okay, why do I have to keep an eye on him?”

“Well, Sher, here is busy all the time.” he hummed, “And I’m busy too.”

Sarge sighed, “So I’m on babysitting duty because you two are busy.”

“Yes,” Sheriff nodded, “Exactly.”

“I’m glad we’re all on the same page,” Doc agreed.

Fillmore grinned, teasing, “Come on, bootlicker, don’t want to spend time with the opposite side?”

Sarge glared at the other teen, but didn’t say anything.

“Think your loyalty will waver?”

Sarge sighed, turning to look at the doctor, “How long do I have to put up with him?”

“At least two weeks.” Jesse said, “I’ll check on him every other day.”

“I’m not that bad,” Fillmore grinned, “maybe you’ll learn that there’s a point to life besides war.”

“Of course there is, I’m not stupid,” Sarge glared, “I want to serve our nation.”

“You know there are ways to do that without throwing your life away, right?”

“I’m not throwing my life away.”

Doc sighed, “Okay, you can argue outside, I need to update Sher on some reports.”

“You kids stay safe, check in with Flo and Ramone before going anywhere. Fil, you’re not allowed to drive.” Sheridan nodded.

“I already got the lecture on not driving, man,” Fil sighed.

“Yeah, but now it’s from me.” he stated, “Sarge, I expect you to keep him in line.”

Sarge nodded at this, “Yes sir,”

Fillmore laughed, “God, you are _such_ a bootlicker, is this a gag?”

“No, I respect authority. It would do you some good,” Richard grumbled.

“I’m doing plenty good.”

He frowned, “You got bricked.”

“Really?” Fillmore asked, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“The hell were you even up to?” Sarge stomped out of the clinic, obeying Sheridan and Jesse.

“Protesting?” Fillmore shrugged, “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, but… _how_?”

“How what? How’d I get hit?”

“Yeah,” Sarge nodded, “How’d you provoke someone?”

“I didn’t,” Fillmore stated.

“I don’t believe that.”

“I didn’t!” he argued, “I wasn’t doing anything that everyone else wasn’t.”

“What was everyone else doing?”

“You were there weren’t you?”

“No? I was at the bookstore, I came out and you were…” Sarge gestured vaguely toward the ground, “I try not to waste my energy on protesters.”

“Well here you are,” Fillmore laughed, “wasting energy on a protester.”

“I was ordered to by Sheridan.” he countered.

“You could’ve said no.”

He shook his head, “That’d be rude.”

Fillmore hummed, “I didn’t realise you cared so much about being polite, Richard.”

“I respect my elders.” He argued.

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“You’re not an elder. Just older,” Sarge explained.

“I think you’re just trying to find loopholes so you don’t have to listen to me.”

“I don’t have to listen to you. You’re a teenager and a pacifist.”

“Oh, you say that word like it’s a bad thing,” Fillmore laughed, “be careful, it’s the guy that _doesn’t like violence._ ”

“It means you’re weak.”

The taller of the pair hummed, “I don’t think so.”

“You can’t defend yourself. Or others.”

“I was defending myself just fine before I got hit with a brick.”

Sarge shook his head, “So how’d you get hit?” 

“I was looking the other way, man,” Fillmore laughed, “I had just turned my head.”

“And your...friends?”

“What about them?”

Sarge frowned, “They left you there. And didn’t defend you either.”

“I was alright,” Fillmore shrugged.

“Yeah, cause _I_ was there.”

“I would’ve been fine either way.”

“You would’ve died.”

Fillmore shook his head, wincing slightly at the headache that followed, “Nah, I’m resilient.”

“Doubt it.” he frowned, turning to Fil, “You okay?”

Fillmore grinned, teasing Sarge, “I’m good, your voice is giving me a headache is all.”

“Alright, hippie,” Sarge rolled his eyes, “No need to be a prick.”

“Hang on, weren’t you just insulting me and calling me weak?” Fillmore raised an eyebrow, “and I’m the prick?”

“You are a prick. And weak.”

“You’re a dick, Dick,” Fillmore laughed.

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s a nickname, isn’t it?”

“You haven’t earned calling me a nickname.”

“I didn’t realize using a nickname was a privilege, I guess I’ll just call you Richard, since Sarge is a nickname too.”

Sarge rolled his eyes, “Don’t.”

“Too late, Richard. You already said I haven’t earned calling you a nickname.”

“Just call me Sarge. That’s it. Is that so difficult?” he glared at Fillmore.

Fillmore shrugged, “Normally, no. But you were just talking about how I can’t stand my ground, so I’m just trying not to prove your point.”

“You’re a prick.” Sarge stated, “Come on, I’m going to lock you in your room at the motel.”

“I think you were instructed to keep an eye on me, not lock me in my room.”

The younger teen shrugged, “We’ve got different interpretations of my orders then.”

Fillmore hummed, “Are soldiers _allowed_ to interpret orders on their own?”

Sarge frowned, “If you weren’t concussed I’d hit you.”

“That isn’t very patriotic, hitting a fellow American.” he grinned.

“You’re the one protesting American ideals.”

“I’m protesting the un-American nature of forcing men to fight a war that doesn’t even need to be happening.” Fil corrected, “And the brainwashing of youth like you.”

Sarge rolled his eyes, “No one’s being brainwashed.”

“So you want to sign your life away to kill a bunch of innocent folk overseas.”

Sarge paused, unable to answer that statement.

“That’s what I thought,” Fil hummed, “You just don’t think of anyone that ain’t American as human, so you don’t mind killing them..”

Sarge opened his mouth to speak, but Fillmore cut him off, “You’re protecting ‘American ideals’ in a country that doesn’t need protecting from anyone but the US military.”

“The military protects democracy. And your right to protest things that are just justice and liberty being ensured,” Sarge argued.

“The military is stepping into conflicts it doesn’t need to be involved in, and making things worse for innocent people.”

“You don’t know anything, you’re just repeating the dumb shit you’ve heard from commies trying to destroy families.” he stated plainly, “I don’t need to listen to this.”

“What’s destroying families is sending men off to war,” Fillmore countered.

“Those men are doing their duty to protect their families.”

Fillmore stopped in his tracks, “I’m going to be sick.”

“Why? Cause you can’t stand being wrong? Pussy.” Sarge rolled his eyes.

“No. I actually feel sick.”

“Because you’re too much of a damn pansy to handle thinking about a war?” He sneered.

Fil shook his head, then ran to the nearby trash can, hurling in it.

“Oh.” Sarge blinked, “You...were actually sick.”

“No shit, Dick,” the taller grumbled, wiping at his mouth.

“Okay, uh…” he nodded, “I’ll...I live closer than the motel, let’s get you some water.”

Fillmore rolled his eyes, ignoring the headache that was returning, “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“Doc’d have my head if you died,” Sarge shook his head, “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Nah man, I feel _great._ ”

“...Sorry, I’m not used to being around sick folk.” Richard sighed, “You...can walk okay, right?”

Fillmore nodded, “I’m fine, Richard.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

“You don’t look fine,” the shorter admitted, leading the way to his house, “You look rough.”

Fillmore shrugged, “I’m concussed and exhausted, I’m sure I’ve looked better.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only seen you concussed.”

“I’ll have to visit so you can judge the accuracy of my statement.”

Sarge looked up, casually saying, “I’m going to enlist in fall.”

Fillmore raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you a little young to enlist?”

He shook his head, “My birthday is in November.”

“So if you waited a few months you’d probably get drafted anyways,” Fillmore frowned.

“I’m a go getter.” Sarge shrugged.

“Are you just,” Fillmore paused, “determined to die? Is that what this is?”

“I’m not going to die.”

“You can tell the future?”

Sarge rolled his eyes, “I don’t need to.”

Fillmore hummed, “There’s a pretty good chance you’ll die out there, Sarge.”

“Why do you even care, hippie?” He glanced at Fil, annoyed, “I’m just a bootlicker.”

“I think it was you that said I would’ve died without you intervening?”

“Yeah, well I did that already. Consider your dumb shit intervened.”

“Well I’m just trying to return the favor,” Fillmore shrugged.

Sarge scoffed, “well I don’t need you to.”

“I want to,” Fillmore said, “Can’t help that I’m a pacifist.”

“Being a pacifist doesn’t mean you need to get in everyone else’s business.”

“I just owe you one,” Fillmore said, “it’s only fair, man.”

Sarge huffed, stopping in front of a small house, “You can pay me off by not puking in my house.”

“No promises.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sarge set down a mug of coffee and a glass of water in front of the couch where Fillmore sat, hoping to keep his nerves down. Only Lizzie and Stanley had visited before, and he was oddly nervous that Fil would somehow find out all his secrets.

Fillmore seemed calm. Too calm for someone that had almost died, and was sitting in a stranger's home. He hummed a tune Sarge vaguely recognized as he looked around. “Nice place you’ve got yourself.”

“Guess so,” he nodded, “Aren’t you...thirsty?”

Fillmore looked down, as if he hadn’t noticed the water, “Oh. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Sarge nodded, taking a sip of the coffee, “What was that you were singing?”

Fillmore shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s just stuck in my head, you know?”

“I guess…” he said, fidgeting slightly, “Are you feeling any better?”

“I think so,” Fillmore closed his eyes a moment, “yeah a little.”

“If you need to sleep, you can use my couch.”

“I don’t mind heading to the motel.”

“I mind the motel and now I’m worried you’re going to die in your sleep and I don’t want Sheridan to be mad about that.” Sarge shook his head.

Fillmore smiled, “Won’t you be to blame either way? I mean… according to them.”

“Yeah but if it’s in my house, Stanley would tell them off for it.” Richard shrugged.

Fillmore nodded, “I guess that makes sense.”

Richard nodded in response, not sure how to respond, still nervous.

Fillmore took note of his energy, speaking quietly, “Don’t worry man I’m not gonna rob you.”

The younger teen glared at Fil, rolling his eyes, “I know _that_.”

“You seem stressed, I was just making sure.”

“Well I’m not.” he lied.

Fillmore laughed, “Whatever you say.”

“Do you enjoy being an ass?”

“I’m not being an ass, I just can tell you’re full of shit.”

“I’m not.”

“If you say so,”

Sarge frowned, “I’m serious.”

Fillmore nodded, “Alright, you’re serious. Nothing’s got you tense, you’re just always like this.”

“...You’re a prick.” Richard concluded.

“You may have mentioned that.”

“I reckon it just surprises me.”

“I’m not saying that I _am_ a prick, but if I were, why would you be surprised? We just met a few hours ago.”

“Cause you hippies all preach the same love and peace bullshit, which I think goes against being a prick.”

“The difference is that I’m pretty sure you were a dick first,” Fillmore shrugged, “you tried to get me arrested for protesting.”

Sarge frowned, “Yeah and cause of that you got your head treated.”

“I would’ve been fine.”

“You’d’ve died,” Richard said.

Fillmore shook his head, “I would’ve been alright.”

“Doubt it,” he stated, “drink your water.”

Fillmore rolled his eyes, but took a drink, “Why do you want to go to war? I’ve heard your ‘I want to serve our nation’ and ‘upholding American ideals’, but there’s gotta be more, right?”

“Someone has to protect pacifists like you.” Sarge shrugged.

“I don’t think it was a pacifist that threw a brick at me,” Fillmore hummed, “probably someone on your side.”

“I think you probably provoked it.”

“Well I didn’t,” Fillmore huffed.

“What about your...friends?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention to them,” Fillmore shrugged, “there was other shit going on.”

“Like what?”

Fillmore paused, “I don’t remember.”

“Doubt that.” Sarge crossed his arms, taking another sip of his coffee. “It had to be pretty important.”

“Memory loss is a concussion side effect,” Fillmore answered.

“Is it?”

“Pretty sure,” Fillmore shrugged, “ask the doctor, not me.”

Richard frowned, “...Hudson isn’t a real doctor. I’m pretty sure.”

“He’s more of a doctor than either of us.”

“...Guess so.” he nodded.

“So it’s totally plausible and _true_ that I forgot.”

“It’s real suspicious of you though,” Sarge hummed.

“It’s not suspicious.”

“It’s definitely suspicious.” He shook his head.

“No it isn’t,” Fillmore shook his head, “people forget things.”

“Yeah, but you can’t seem to remember what anyone was up to.”

“There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary,” Fillmore shrugged, “a little more yelling but nothing that stands out.”

“What was the yelling about?” Richard asked.

“Why does it matter?”

He shrugged, “I’m curious.”

Fillmore frowned, “Weren’t you _there_?”

“I was in the bookshop, there was music playing.” He hummed.

Fillmore paused, “I don’t think it was anything important.”

“You don’t think it’s important?”

“Listen man, it’s kind of a blur.”

“I guess you did get distracted by a brick,” Richard nodded.

“Yeah,” Fillmore nodded, “I did.”

“Mhm.” he hummed, drinking his coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarge wasn’t sure how he ended up in this situation. Obviously, he knew what happened. He went out of his way to be nice, which was a mistake. The person he _was_ nice to, turned out to be some sort of self proclaimed activist. The activist has a concussion. Now Richard is a babysitter for someone two years older than him. This stranger, Fillmore, was obnoxious and pushy and oddly...charming. The bravado Fil carried and his unwavering confidence almost made Richard second guess his choice to enlist. Which was stupid. All of it was painfully idiotic and immature. 

“You alright there, Dick?” Fil asked, interrupting any train of thought there was. The taller teen was holding a mug from Flo of some sort of tea, and reading some book on philosophy.

“I’m fine,” he answered, “didn’t Doc tell you not to strain your eyes reading?”

“Did he?” Fil feigned ignorance, turning his focus back to the page he was on.

Sarge rolled his eyes, “I tried to stop you, any lasting damage is your own fault.”

“What were you thinking about?” the older smiled, changing the topic, “You were pretty focused.”

“I was thinking about how you’re an idiot that almost got himself killed for a protest,” Sarge answered half truthfully. In a sense, he was.

“You want to die for your cause, don’t you? You’re obviously willing to since you’re going to enlist.” he shrugged casually, “Mine’s just a different cause I guess.”

“You _guess?_ ”

“...Yeah?”

Richard hummed, “You’re not sure they’re different? Or you’re not sure they’re equivalent?”

“Why do you want to go to war?” Fil set his book down, “What are you trying to protect?”

Sarge blinked, “We had this conversation the other day?”

“Answer the question, Sarge.”

“Protecting families and...” Richard answered, trying to think of the reasons his brothers or dad gave when asked. He didn’t have another choice but to serve, that was the way to get into the part of life you actually enjoy, so he finished, “Making sure there’s justice.”

Fillmore frowned, “You don’t seem sure you’re doing the right thing.”

“Why’d you ask.” Sarge faked annoyance.

“Well...it’s the same. Our goal. You just think that war is the way to do it and I think war is what’s breaking families up and causing injustice.” Fil explained.

Sarge rolled his eyes before changing the subject, “What were you reading, anyways?”

“You’d just insult it,” Fil hummed, shrugging.

Sarge shook his head, unsure why he was even trying to make conversation with the other, “Alright.”

“It’s an analysis of pacifism.” Fil answered after a moment.

He raised an eyebrow, “Is it any good?”

“Pretty alright, it’s a pretty new term as far as philosophy goes,” Fillmore said, “So it’s sort of a...comparison of the ideology.” The tall man took a sip of his tea, “The word is from France. Did you know that?”

Sarge shook his head, “No.”

Fillmore hummed, “Didn’t expect you to.”

“So why’d you ask?” Richard frowned, crossing his arms.

Before Fil could answer, there was a knock at the door, and Sarge stood to answer it. At the door was Doc and he immediately prepared to be teased by the former racer for _something._

“Hey, Stanley told me you never took Fil to the motel.” the man started, “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

Sarge frowned, “ _No,_ I didn’t.”

“So...where is he?” Jesse tilted his head.

“I’m here, Hudson,” Fillmore called, not looking up from the book. Sarge opened the door wider so Doc could see the older teen.

“What’s he doing?” Doc asked.

“Reading,” Fillmore answered, “when he isn’t bugging me.”

Jesse sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose,“You’re letting him read?”

“I told him not to.”

“He shouldn’t be reading.”

Sarge sighed, “I know.”

“But you’re letting him.”

Sarge paused, “... no?”

Doc walked into the house, grabbing the book from Fil’s hands and holding it out to Sarge, “Be a good babysitter and read to him. Otherwise he’ll strain his eyes and fuck up his head more.”  
Sarge rolled his eyes, taking the book.

“Come on soldier, I thought you liked taking orders and respecting authority,” Fil smirked, taking a sip of his tea.

“Fillmore, don’t be a prick, he’s in charge.” 

Fillmore hummed, “I don’t think Richard here has been in charge of anything in his life.”

“Hey!” Sarge frowned.

“Well he is now,” Doc stated.

“Thank you for the wellness check, doctor,” Fillmore smiled, “but I think I’m better off in my own hands.”

“I’ll throw another brick at you.” Doc rolled his eyes, “Be nice to Sarge, he’s gonna make sure you don’t die.”

Sarge grumbled, “This time I’ll know better than to help him.”

“I’ll be nice,” Fillmore sighed.

“Good.” Doc nodded, “I’m going to have to check in more just to know you haven’t killed each other.”

“You don’t need to,” Richard said, “we’ll be fine.”

Doc raised an eyebrow, “We’ll see about that.”

“Bye Jesse Hudson, former racer,” Fillmore announced, standing, “Thanks for stopping by.”

“...Goodbye Doctor,” Sarge blinked, closing the door in front of Jesse before turning to Fil, “I’m not reading to you.”

“But Richard, it’s doctor’s orders.”

“It’s demeaning.”

“It is?”

“You’re not a child. I’m not a _babysitter_.” Richard argued, “It’s a stupid idea.”

“Then hand me my book,” Fillmore hummed, “doesn’t matter that much to me.”

“...no.” he shook his head.

The taller huffed, “Then read to me.”

Sarge paused, then sighed, “Where’d you stop reading?”

“The end of the first page it’s open to.”

“Alright, don’t interrupt me.” Sarge sighed, returning to his seat and starting to read aloud.


	5. Chapter 5

Sarge sighed, more than a little annoyed with his fate. It didn’t help that Fil was leaning on him as he read. The younger tried not to move too much as he continued to read, hoping his face wasn’t as warm as he thought. There was another knock at the door and, when Fil didn’t budge, Richard softly called, “Come in.”

When the Sheriff opened the door, he looked slightly concerned, “Hey kid, you two alright still?”

“Just been reading here since Doc told me to,” Richard nodded, glaring at Fil before saying, “He’s pretty shit company.”

Sheriff laughed, sitting across from the pair, “That might be because he’s asleep?”

“...he’s what?” Sarge blinked, tilting to look at Fil, but couldn’t see the other teen’s face.

“Looks like he’s been asleep for a while.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“...Can you move him?” Sarge asked, “Without...waking him.”

“I think you have a better chance of that than I do.”

“You’re bigger than me, Sheridan.”

The man smiled, standing, “You’re on your own for this, Sarge. I’m glad you two are getting along.”

“Sheriff,” Richard frowned, “Please?”

“Nope. Want me to get you something from Flo’s?” Sheriff stretched.

The teen sighed in defeat, “A shake, please.”

“No food?” Sheridan asked, “Should I get something for sleeping beauty?”

Sarge glanced at him, making a face, “Whatever tea she sent him earlier.”

Sheridan nodded, “Alright, and you’re sure nothing to eat?”

“... pretty sure.”

“Alright, have fun waking him up,” he grinned, walking out the door, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Once the Sheriff left, Sarge sighed, looking at the other teen, “I thought I said I _wasn’t_ a babysitter.”

Fillmore didn’t respond other than leaning a bit closer to Sarge, his chest rising and falling slowly. Richard rolled his eyes, leaning his head against Fil’s, accepting that he was trapped. It wasn’t as bad as he wanted it to be. The older teen was pleasantly warm, and not too heavy, like a wool blanket.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Sheriff returned, he had Doc in tow, and was ready to tease the couple. Doc was holding a mug and a cup, having agreed to carry the drinks in exchange for getting to tag along. The police officer opened the door, careful to keep quiet so they didn’t wake Fillmore.

On the couch though, was Sarge, asleep against Fillmore, book left open in his lap. They both seemed completely relaxed and at peace.

“Hey, Sher? Should we wake them?” Hudson asked, adjusting his grip on the drinks.

Sheriff hummed, “You’re the doctor, it’s up to you.”

“I don’t know, you’re the one that knows Sarge,” he walked to the coffee table and set them both down, “Weren’t they awake when you stopped by? How long did you take?”

“Sarge was, Fillmore was asleep.”

“What’d Sarge think of _that_?” Doc hummed, grabbing the book off of the small teen’s lap.

Sheriff paused, “Well he didn’t know Fillmore was asleep until I pointed it out, and he seemed more shocked than anything.”

“Mhm,” he nodded, grabbing a memo pad from nearby and sliding it between the open pages before closing the book and setting it down, “They seem fond of each other.”

“Well they have been spending the last… 36 hours together.”

Doc hummed, “Grab a blanket, will you, Sher?”

Sheridan nodded, leaving the room and returning with a blanket.

“Thanks, bud,” he smiled and took the blanket, wrapping it around the pair on the couch. Jesse stretched and grabbed the drinks, taking them to the kitchen, “What do you know about Sarge again?”

Sheridan followed the doctor, “He’s from Georgia, showed up here alone, I think he’s about seventeen?”

“Small for a seventeen year old,” he commented noncommittally, “Alone though? Really?”

Sheriff nodded, “He was just here one day, like he appeared out of thin air.”

“Arrived on a bus?” Doc asked, setting the shake in the fridge, “I’ve never seen a bus round these parts.”

“There’s a few bus stops in the next town over.”

Jesse hummed, “How’d he find this place?”

“Stanley met him in town,” Sheridan explained, “Sarge told him his plan and that he didn’t have lodgings yet, so Stan brought him here.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

“What about me?” Doc looked at Sheriff.

“How’d you find this place?” he clarified.

Jesse sighed, “Just...drove until I couldn’t I guess.”

Sheriff nodded, “I guess that’s how a lot of us find our way here.”

“This isn’t exactly a landmark town,” he nodded, smiling weakly.

“No, not really,” Sheriff hummed, “but I think that’s part of its appeal.”

Doc smiled, setting the tea in the fridge as well, before asking, “How strong are you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t want the boys to ruin their backs.” Jesse said, nodding to Sarge and Fillmore.

Sheriff glanced at them, “A few hours won’t kill them.”

“I’d much prefer knowing they’re asleep in a bed.” Doc said, “But if you’re not up to it, we can leave them...don’t you think it’d be sort of funny if they woke up in the bed together though?”

Sheriff hummed, “It _would be_.”

Jesse smiled, “They do seem to fancy each other too.”

“They’ve definitely been getting along better than I had expected.”

“And Sarge didn’t move when he found out Fillmore was asleep.” Doc pointed out.

“He actually asked if I could move Fillmore without waking him up.”

“And you said no and now here they are,” he gestured, “Sleeping on each other.”

“And here we are, standing in a teenager’s kitchen.”

“...Don’t say that like we’re creeps, we were delivering his drinks.”

Sheridan laughed, “Alright well it looks like they’re delivered.”

“Well, now I’m doing a house call like a responsible doctor.”

“Alright, you do that Hudson.”

Doc frowned at Sheriff, “You sound like you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” Sheriff protested, “kind of.”

“Kind of?” Jesse grinned, walking to the other man.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “only kind of.”

“Why not more?” he teased.

“Well I’m still not 100% sure you _are_ a doctor, Hud.”

“Why is that?” Jesse started toward the door, “You’ve seen my degree. You’ve let me treat Fillmore.”

“The kid would’ve died without medical attention,” Sheriff hummed, “I had no choice.”

“Guess so.” he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote ‘drinks in fridge,’ before humming, 

“Let’s leave them to sleep.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as those of you who follow me on tumblr know, I posted last week about taking a hiatus from posting original posts for a bit. What does that mean for this fic?
> 
> That this update was a little late, sorry about that!

Fillmore had been stuck in Radiator Springs for a week and a half now. He was pretty sure he knew all the citizens of the town. He was just as sure he had figured out all the relationships.   
Flo was a former showgirl and her boyfriend(almost husband) was Ramone, who was a tattoo artist but mostly paints these days. Then there was Stanley, who was a direct descendent of the founders, and his wife was Lizzie, both were really nice, but they had a son too who Fil didn’t know. Sheriff and Doc were friends, but Fil was pretty sure there was something going on there. 

Finally, there was Sarge. 

Sarge who saved his life.

Sarge who chose that nickname because otherwise he’d be “Dick.”

Sarge who wanted to go to war and had the funniest attitude and a very nice voice to listen to read and snark about pacifism.

Sarge who Fillmore was _pretty sure_ he liked romantically.

“Your tea is getting cold.” Richard stated, glancing up from the newspaper in his hands.

Fillmore blinked, his train of thought completely derailed, “Maybe I wanted it room temperature.”

“You’ve drank it hot every other day.”

“Maybe I wanted a change today.”

Sarge nodded, looking back to the newspaper, “Okay, well I just thought you should know.”

Fillmore smiled, “Thank you, Dick.”

“Whatever, hippie.” he grumbled, “I don’t know how you can stomach that crap.”

“It’s good for you, man,” Fillmore laughed, “and I’m pretty sure you’ve _never_ tried it, so you wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t know if I’ve drank it before,” Sarge rolled his eyes.

“Have you?”

“Take a guess.”

“I don’t think you have.”

Richard sighed, “I haven’t.” Then held his hand out, “Give me a sip.”

Fillmore took a drink, before handing the mug to Sarge and making a face, “It’s better hot.”

“I warned you it was getting cold,” he took a sip, then coughed and handed it back, “Tastes like dirt.”

Fillmore rolled his eyes, “No it doesn’t.”

“It tastes like the dust bowl did.” he insisted, “I’m sure of it.”

“It’s slightly earthy, you’re being dramatic.”

“You just have no taste.” Sarge said, “I bet you’d eat dirt and talk about how good organic food is.”

“I would _not_.”

“Maybe that’s why you got sick that first day, someone threw a brick at you so you’d stop eating dirt and then the concussion made you realize it’s gross,” Sarge said.

Fillmore laughed, “I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“You don’t even remember what happened that day,” he countered, “It could be.”

“Well I don’t think it is.”

Richard shrugged, joking as he refocused on the paper, “Maybe that’s why you like that tea so much. Eating dirt awakened you.”

Fillmore raised an eyebrow, “Awakened me?”

Sarge flushed, frowning as he elaborated, “Awakened your tastebuds...for...loving dirt.”

He laughed softly, “You’re so fucking weird. You know that, Rich?”

“I don’t, actually.” he stated, ducking his head behind the newspaper to hide his blush.

“Anything interesting in the news?”

“Not particularly.”

Fillmore blinked, “Nothing?”

“No…?” Sarge said, realizing he hadn’t even been reading the paper. He had been staring at Fillmore as the older spaced out. The taller teen had looked so relaxed as he was thinking about...whatever he was thinking about it. He wished he could read Fil’s mind, if only to understand him.

Fillmore hummed, “That’s odd.”

“Is it?”

“Usually there’s something.”

“Guess it’s been a slow week,” Sarge stood and cleared his throat, setting the paper on the kitchen counter, “That happens here.”

Fillmore shrugged, “I guess I’m just not used to that.”

“Get used to it, hippie.” Richard mumbled, “How’s your head?”

“About the same it was yesterday,” Fillmore answered.

“Should Doc check it out?”

“I think I’m already due for a check.”

He set his own mug in the sink, “Really? You didn’t mention that.”

“I’m pretty sure he said something about it yesterday,” Fillmore hummed.

“We should head out then, shouldn’t we?” Sarge turned around.

Fillmore sighed, “It’s too early for that.”

“It’s nearly nine.”

“And that's early for me.”

“You’ve been up at seven all week.” he frowned, “Sometimes earlier.”

“It’s not my fault I had to get used to your ridiculous schedule.”

“You didn’t _have_ to do anything,” Sarge stated, “You chose to.”

“I kind of had to.”

“Nope.”

Fillmore frowned, “Fine, we’ll leave”

“Thank you, Fil.” Richard hummed, “Maybe you’re better enough that I don’t have to read to you.”

“Because that was the biggest hardship of all of this?” Fillmore asked.

“What do you think is?”

Fillmore shrugged, “I don’t know, man.”

“Pretty sure it was having to read for you,” Sarge stepped into his boots.

“If you say so.”

“That and you falling asleep on me,” he grumbled, blushing as he tied the boots.

“I only did that once,” Fillmore said.

“And it was the worst.” the younger insisted, trying not to think about the pleasant weight and warmth of the other teen.

“Was it really?”

“...yes.”

Fillmore hummed, “Have I mentioned that you’re a bad liar?”

“Am I?” Sarge asked.

Fillmore nodded, “Yeah, kind of.”

“I’m not lying.” he insisted.

“Oh, you aren’t?”

“Not in the slightest. Sounds like you’re just hearing what you want to.”

“Whatever you say, Rich.”

Richard stood and looked to Fil like he was going to say something, but then turned around, “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re the one who’s still planning on signing his life away.”

“Shut it,” Sarge sighed, “Are you dressed to go?”

Fillmore nodded, “Yeah, we can go.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's... mainly filler tbh

“What are you doing?” Sarge frowned as Doc held his hand against Fil’s head.

Doc turned to look at the teen, “What do you mean?”

“...Why are you touching him like that?”

“I don’t understand your question.” He lowered his hand.

“You aren’t a doctor, what are you even doing?”

“Chill out, man,” Fil hummed, “It’s no big deal.”

“Don’t tell me to chill out,” Sarge sighed, “I’m going to be put in charge of you again when he makes it worse.”

“I’m not going to make anything worse.” Jesse stated, “I’m just checking the severity of his concussion, Sarge.”

“I told you,” Fillmore smiled reassuringly, “it’s no big deal.”

“Can you blame me for not believing you?” Sarge rolled his eyes, “You said you were fine right after almost dying.”

“I didn’t almost die. It wasn’t that bad.” Fil hummed, “I was just concussed. Apparently.”

The medical professional sighed, “Richard, can I continue the check up?”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

“Is it? Or will you interrupt me?” Jesse teased, “Do I need Sheridan to take you outside?”

“Just ignore him,” Fillmore shrugged.

“Easier said than done,” he stated, returning his attention to Fil, “How’s your head feeling overall?”

“Alright,” Fillmore answered.

“Have you thrown up any since the first day?”

Fillmore shook his head.

“How’s your memory?” Doc asked, then said, “If I tell you a list of words, think you can remember them?”

He paused, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“He doesn’t even remember the day he got hit,” Sarge grumbled.

Doc hummed, “That’s pretty normal, actually.”

“Is it?” Richard frowned, “Doesn’t sound like it would be. It sounds like bullshit.”

Doc nodded, “Yes, Sarge. It is.”

“See? I’m fine, man,” Fil said.

“How’s your vision?” Doc asked, then said “Sarge hold up some fingers.” When the teen did so, he hummed, “Okay, Fil how many fingers is Richard holding up?”

Fillmore turned to look at him, “Three.”

“Yup,” Jesse smiled, “headache?”

“Not really, no.”

Doc held out his hand, “Stand up.”

Fillmore stood, “Anything else?”

“Take my hand.”

“Okay.”

“Walk in a straight line.” Doc stated.

“This is a fuckin joke,” Sarge rolled his eyes.

“I thought you respected authority,” Fillmore hummed as he took a few steps.

“Jesse Hudson doesn’t have any authority.”

“Well now I’m confused about the criteria.”

“Seems like you’re good, Fil.” Jesse interrupted, “Anything you want to ask about? Is anything off?”

“I don’t think anything’s off,” Fillmore answered.

“He has barely been sleeping for shit,” Sarge said.

“Maybe that’s normal for me.”

“Is it?” Jesse asked.

Fillmore paused, “It… kind of is.”

“Kind of?”

“Listen, man, my sleep schedule isn’t exactly regular.”

“That’s not healthy,” Doc frowned, “Any particular reason why?”

Fillmore shrugged, “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “Well, you’re okay to drive now at least.”

“What’s that mean?” Sarge asked.

“Fil here is good to go home. He’s got the green light.” Doc explained.

“Oh.” Fil nodded, “I can go home?”

“Yup.” Jesse stated, “All clear.”


	9. Chapter 9

Sarge didn’t want Fillmore to leave. The other had become a constant in his life over the past few weeks. With his shitty tea and his godforsaken book taste that was almost endearing, and his incessant criticism of Sarge’s record collection, he knew it would feel… odd without him.

He should be _glad_ Fillmore was cleared to leave. He would finally have his space to himself. He wouldn’t have to hear Fillmore talk about this country like it was terrible. He should be happy the hippie would be gone. But Richard couldn’t bring himself to be happy about it. Not that he was upset Fillmore was leaving. He was neutral about it. He wasn’t looking forward to when Fillmore left but that didn’t mean-

“Are you even listening to me?” Fillmore’s question derailed Sarge’s train of thought.

“Were you still going on your tangent about 8-tracks and cassettes?”

Fillmore rolled his eyes, “I don’t understand why you don’t _care_ about the fact that music is portable now.”

“The portable radio has been around for a while now, Fil.” _Fil?_ Since when did Sarge call Fillmore _Fil?_ “Besides, records are fine.”

“If you don’t go anywhere ever,” Fillmore said, “I’m telling you man, you’re already behind the curve.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll know the latest technology for the next four years,” he shrugged, mostly attempting to remind himself that he was leaving whether Fil stayed or not.

Fillmore frowned, “I think you enjoy not knowing what’s cool.”

“I just don’t...care much,” Richard stated, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“I’m going to war, Fillmore. I won’t have access to any of this crap, so why bother learning it now?”

Fillmore hummed, “There’s a good chance you’ll die, why don’t you live a little before that?”

“Are you hippies supposed to be optimistic?” Sarge rolled his eyes.

He shrugged, “I’m a realist. The war is horrible. That’s reality. People are going to die. That’s reality. The chance of that happening increases when you sign your life away. That’s just reality.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to die. My family has served for years. The only casualty was my uncle a dozen years back.” Sarge stated, failing to meet his eyes, “This war is just like any other war.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Shouldn’t...shouldn’t you be packing? Or something?”

“You’re not invincible,” Fillmore shook his head, “you know that right? Bad things happen to everyone.”

“I know I’m not invincible, but I’m sure I won’t die.”

“You can’t be sure though,” Fillmore rolled his eyes, “that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Huh?” Fil frowned, “What do you even mean?”

Richard shrugged, “Why do you care if _I_ go to war? There are probably people who are more easily swayed.”

“Who cares? My friends are out protesting still, they’re swaying poor folk like you,” Fillmore stated, “Why do you care if I’m not out bringing more people to stand against the war?”

Sarge paused, “I don’t, I just want to know why you keep bugging _me._ ”

“You’re the only one here planning on signing away your life and planning to die for…” He paused, “What is it again? Protecting something?”

Sarge ignored the question he didn’t _really_ have an answer to. “So? There’s probably more people in your college town just dying to go to war.”

“That’s how I ended up with a concussion though. And who knows if I’m lucky enough to come across another soldier to be to drag me to their town in the middle of nowhere and read to me about the philosophical explorations of pacifism.” Fillmore jested.

Sarge tried not to think about the weight that had settled in his chest, and laughed softly, “The last thing you need is _more_ brain damage.”

Fillmore smiled, “Was that a _laugh_?”

“...No.”

“It definitely was,” Fillmore stood, “I’m going to talk to Ramone about 8-tracks. Someone here has to be up to date on technology.”

Sarge couldn’t stop the words from being spoken. They were halfway out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. “You could always stay here.”

“And listen to you tell me modern technology doesn’t matter? No, I think I’m going to Ramone.” Fil smirked.

Sarge rolled his eyes, “Have fun with that.”

“Why so desperate for my company though, soldier?” Fillmore asked, his voice soft and almost hopeful.

Sarge didn’t have an answer. Well he did, but not one he could say. To anyone. So he shrugged.

“Just want your fill?” He teased, laughing at his own joke.

“Are you leaving or not?”

“I’ll be back, don’t worry.” the older teen said, “I’m sure Ramone will want to talk to Flo while we’re talking and I don’t want to get between that.”

“Tell Flo hi for me.”

He hummed, “Not Ramone?”

“Ramone too,” Sarge rolled his eyes.

“What if I run into Sher and Doc?” he teased, grabbing his bag.

“Don’t tell them hi for me.”

Fillmore blinked, “Oh? Why not?”

“They’re why I’m stuck with you.” Sarge stated.

“Stuck with me,” Fillmore laughed, “that’s why you told me I could stay here, out of nowhere.”

“I…” the younger teen flushed, choking slightly before asking, “Weren’t you going to bother Ramone?”

“Now you want me gone again?”

“I always did.” he lied.

“Whatever you say, Rich.”

“Don’t...nevermind.” He sighed, “Get out of my house, I’m...busy.”

“Don’t what? Be gone long? I already said I wouldn’t”

Sarge shook his head, “Just leave. Go bug Ramone.”

“Bye Sarge.”

He nodded, turning to the kitchen, ignoring how uncomfortable the words felt in his throat, “...Bye Fil.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Hombre, be honest, are you here for a tattoo or to talk?” Ramone asked, staring at Fil.

Fillmore closed the binder of art, “No...I just wanted to talk. Maybe one day though.”

“Okay here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to hand you some spray paint and you’re going to carry it for me. Then we can talk while I paint.” Ramone stated, grabbing a bag of cans, offering it over to the teen, “Want beer?”

Fillmore paused, before shaking his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Alright, let’s head out.” He grinned, “And if Sheriff catches us, I’m saying it was your idea, man.”

“Like he’s going to do anything about it?”

“He won’t, but I’m still going to.” Ramone grabbed a pair of sunglasses and led the teen out and down the streets of Radiator Springs. Eventually he stopped at a clearly abandoned building, “Alright, give me some red.”

Fillmore handed him a can with a red lid, “You know about 8-tracks, right?”

“Of course I do, hombre,” Ramone nodded, shaking the can, “What about them?”

He shrugged, “Just wanted to make sure _someone_ in this town was up to date.”

“That all? Flo knows them too.” The man asked, starting to paint, “Was there more?”

“Sarge refuses to learn about any new tech.”

“Yeah, he thinks he’s not allowed to start living until he’s done serving.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah.” Ramone nodded, “He’s cooler about shit when you get him drinking.”

“ _Sarge_ will drink underage?”

“Shit, yeah, he’s pretty young,” the man pursed his lips, shrugging, “I don’t know, he used to in Georgia according to him. Gimme white.”

Fillmore handed Ramone the white can, “That’s… surprising.”

“Well, you know,” he gestures vaguely, “You know.”

“I… don’t know.”

“I think you know.” Ramone stated.

“Humor me and spell it out.”

Ramone stared at Fillmore, “No, I...think you know.” He focused on painting, “You were staying with him, right?”

“Yeah?” Fillmore answered.

“Yeah.” Ramone nodded, holding out his hand, “Black?”

“Here,”

“Thanks kid.” Ramone shook the can, “What were you here for again?”

“I…” Fillmore paused, “I don’t know. It seemed important but…” he trailed off.

“What _kind_ of important?”

“I needed a break from Sarge.”

“You can leave now, can’t you? That’s a break. Also, you were pretty eager to go…”

“Was I?”

“Yup. Talked all about your schooling and friends and crap.” Ramone nodded, “blue?”

“I don’t… things change?” Fillmore handed Ramone the blue.

“Yeah. They do.” Ramone nodded, “So you’re fruity?”

“What?”

“You know. Fruity. You’re a fruit?” Ramone attempted to elaborate, continuing to paint.

Fillmore hesitated before answering, “Yes.”

“Yeah.” Ramone nodded, “thought so.”

“You… thought so?”

“Yup.” he hummed.

“Well,” Fillmore attempted to change the subject, “I’m not really… ready to go home yet.”

Ramone picked the white back up, “Lover’s spat? Giving him time to chill out?”

“What?” Fillmore blinked, “No?”

“Then I’m not following.”

“I’m not… involved with anyone right now.”

“Oh so you haven’t fucked.” Ramone nodded, “Okay, see now this makes more sense.”

Fillmore frowned, “Now I’m not following.”

“...You were following earlier?” Ramone raised an eyebrow, turning to Fil, “Yellow.”

“So I was never following,” Fillmore dug through the bag for a yellow, “maybe explain?”

“Well you’re fruity.” Ramone stated like that explained it all, “I wanted the other yellow. There’s a brighter one. This is too orange.”

Fillmore handed Ramone the other yellow, “I know that I’m queer, Ramone.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, returning to the painting, “So what’s any of this have to do with music again?”

“I was trying to talk about them with Sarge when he got all weird about how he’s not going to be around, and then _weirder_ about how he’s not going to die, and it was just a lot.”

“Well, he has that shit for after serving. When he’ll settle down with some lady and a picket fence. Right now he’s enjoying other stuff.” Ramone stated.

“He’s just got his whole life planned out?” Fillmore asked, ignoring the pang of jealousy.

“Don’t look so sad about it, man, I didn’t tell you he’s dying or something.” Ramone said, picking up red, “He’ll still be your....pal.”

Fillmore paused, “He _could_ die though.”

“Yeah okay, but he’s gonna come home and marry some lady and it’ll be a loveless marriage but hopefully divorce is okay within the next decade and then you two can hang out all you want.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“No,” Ramone shook his head, grabbing the blue, “But Sarge has.”

Fillmore blinked, “And he’s just told you about this… plan?”

“And more,” he nodded, “Plan is a strong word, I think it’s a guideline.”

“He’s told you _more?_ ”

Ramone shrugged, “Gotta tell someone, right?”

Fillmore hummed, “I guess.”

“No need to be jealous of that though, he’s always wasted when he does.” Ramone smiled, “You’ll get there.”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“...Because you’re into him?”

“I never said that.”

“Didn’t need to.” Ramone stated, “I already knew.”

Fillmore paused, “I’m… not.”

“Hombre, I do not care if you think about kissing him. It doesn’t matter,” the man said, “Purple.”

Fillmore handed Ramone the purple, “It does matter though.”

“Why?” Ramone blinked, “Who cares?”

“I care?”

“About kissing him? Yeah, I can tell.”

“I-” Fillmore paused, “maybe.”

“It’s fine if you do.”

“... Alright.”

“I assumed you were already kissing and that’s why you’re so keen to stay.”

“No,” Fillmore shook his head.

“So you’re staying because you want to be,” Ramone nodded.

“... yeah.”

The man shrugged, tossing Fillmore a can, “So tell him that.”

Fillmore caught the can, “I can’t just tell him that.”

“Why not?” he hummed, grabbing two and packing them back into the bag.

“Because I can’t?”

“But why?”

Fillmore paused, “Because.”

“He wants to kiss you too, so who cares? Life is short, he’s going to war.”

“He does?”

“...Maybe.” Ramone settled on saying after deciding outing a crush probably isn’t cool for gay men either.

Fillmore frowned, “You just said he did?”

“Maybe.”

He nodded, “Alright.”

“Yup. Let’s head back, that’s enough time away from Sarge for you.”

Fillmore blinked, “What? Okay.”

“He’ll get all antsy about wartime enjoyment,” Ramone shrugged.

“Alright, we’ll leave,” Fillmore rolled his eyes.

“Look at me,” Ramone grabbed his bag once it’s packed, “I have something important to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss him. And if you don’t, next time go bitch to Sheridan or Doc.” Ramone said, “I get enough of weird fruity melancholy from Sarge.”

“Alright I’ll… bitch to someone else.”

“Or make out with Sarge behind Flo’s like you no doubt want to.”

“I… have never thought about that.”

“Well now you will all the time, you’re welcome.” Ramone hummed.


	11. Chapter 11

Fillmore sighed after he left Ramone’s tattoo parlor, thinking about everything. It was a lot to unpack, but his mind kept gravitating to the idea of Sarge marrying some woman and settling down and...why did he care? Sure, okay, maybe he thinks Sarge is attractive and fun to bother, but that doesn’t mean anything.

It shouldn’t mean anything. 

Sarge is his own man with his own wants and Fil shouldn’t care if the would-be soldier has a plan for the rest of his life.

It shouldn’t hurt that Fil isn’t in the plan.

It shouldn’t matter at all.

It did matter, and Fillmore hated that it did. That one guy in a town that didn’t show up on maps had turned his entire life upside down.

Now he was walking home- _no, not home_ \- being miserable about his friend’s future. Were they even friends?

Fillmore wasn’t sure, and that realization hit him almost as hard as hearing about this “future plan” had.

Then there Sarge was, like Fil’s world wasn’t overturned, out on the porch with a coffee and a newspaper. Fillmore swallowed, knowing that that comfort came with his absence.

For a moment, he considered leaving. Walking right out of this town and leaving it all behind as a concussion induced fever dream. Nothing but a distant memory. 

“Hey Fil, where’d you go off to? Ramone, right?” Sarge called, looking up from the paper.

“Yeah,” he answered, nervous.

“Have fun talking about 8 tracks?”

Fillmore nodded, “He actually knows about technology and shit.”

“Makes sense. He likes music.”

“... yeah. I kind of picked that up.”

Sarge hummed at that, Fillmore wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or not.

It was quiet for a moment, before Fillmore spoke again, “Do you want to go on a drive?”

Sarge set the paper down, “A drive?”

He nodded, “It’s good for… clearing your head.”

“Is this just an attempt to force me to listen to your music?”

“I was just offering.” Fil shrugged awkwardly, “You can say no.”

Sarge didn’t say anything for a few seconds. When he did, he shook his head, “No, I’ll come.”

“You sure?”

“Do you want me to or not?”

“I do, I just didn’t think you’d want to.” Fil shrugged.

“I’ve got nothing else going on.”

“Yeah but...don’t you hate me or something?”

Sarge rolled his eyes, “I don’t _hate_ you.”

“You don’t?” Fil asked, trying not to seem too hopeful.

“No, Fillmore. I don’t hate you.”

“Oh.” Fillmore nodded, then cleared his throat, “Let me grab my keys.”

Sarge smiled softly, “Alright.”

Fil entered the house, returning in a minute or two holding keys, “I was just planning on driving, but I guess I can take you to the next town over if you want.”

“This was your idea, it’s up to you.”

“I’m just giving you options.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t care where we go.”

“I was just being polite. Letting you know you have choices if you’re...unhappy.” Fil suggested.

Sarge didn’t know how to respond. He _knew_ he had choices, but it was strange to hear that. Almost like a relief. Which was strange, why would it be relieving to hear something he already knew? “Thank you,” was what he settled on after what felt like an eternity.

“Sure, man,” Fillmore nodded, settling in behind the wheel, “You just don’t have to do shit you don’t want to. No one should.”

“Maybe in a perfect world no one will have to.”

“Yeah, right now in this one, though, you don’t.”

“Whatever you say, Fil.”

“Like going to war or,” Fil paused, “Doing the whole marriage thing.”

Sarge frowned, “What the hell are you going on about, hippie?”

“I don’t know, free will.” Fillmore shrugged, “That the American Dream is unattainable but if it were that doesn’t mean it needs to be yours.”

He hummed, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m serious, Dick.”

“I know you are, Fillmore.”

“And you can always...change your mind about stuff.”

“Did you ask me to come with you so you could lecture me about personal autonomy?” Sarge raised an eyebrow.

Fillmore shook his head, “No! No, I...was just thinking about it, man.”

“If you say so.”

Fillmore focused on the road, “I just know I’d hate to settle down with some lady with a white picket fence and shit. Working a 9 to 5 and crap?”

“Yeah you seem like the type to hate that,” Sarge nodded.

“You seem like you would be too.”

“Do I?”

Fillmore nodded, softly admitting, “Yeah, you do.”

Sarge hummed, “Guess I would.”

“Was that your plan?”

“I don’t really have a plan for the future,” Sarge lied.

“What’re you doing after the war?” Fil asked.

“I don’t really know.”

The older paused, “That sounds unlike you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Sarge shrugged.

“The truth maybe?” Fil knew he shouldn’t push it, but he felt like he had to. He wanted to know everything about Sarge, or at least more than Ramone did.

He frowned, “I am.”

“Sure, Sarge.” Fillmore sighed, turning his attention fully to the road.

“Why are you asking me about this?”

“I don’t know.” Fil shrugged.

“You… don’t know?”

“Nope.”

Sarge paused, “You have no idea.”

“Do I usually?” The older teen hummed.

“I guess not,” Sarge sighed.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Fillmore nodded, staring at the valley.

“Well,” he said, “let me know when you find out why you’re asking.”

“I won’t.” he stated, “Find out, I mean.”

“Maybe you’re still concussed,” Sarge joked.

“No. I’m pretty lucid.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive, Dick.” Fil nodded. He sighed, “You heard Doc, I’m good to go.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your name.”

“No it isn’t,” Richard rolled his eyes.

“It’s a nickname of your name.”

“Well don’t call me that, Fil.”

“What about Rich?” he offered.

“... yeah that’s fine,” Sarge sighed.

Fillmore nodded, “Okay, Dick, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a prick.”

“Me? I’m no such thing.” he smiled.

“You are definitely a prick.”

“It’s almost literally your name, so if it’s either of us, it’s you.”

Sarge frowned, “That’s not how that works.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. It isn’t.”

Fil grinned, “You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Well then, agree to disagree.”

“Except I’m right, and you’re not even trying to use logic.”

“You always think you’re right, Sarge,” Fillmore’s voice was soft, almost loving, not that he’d admit it.

Sarge laughed, “And I usually am right, aren’t I?”

“No, definitely not.” 

“I was right when I thought you might need help,” Sarge said.

Fillmore frowned, “That was different.”

“How is it different?”

“I...it just was.”

“No, Fil,” Sarge crossed his arms, “how was it different?”

“It just was, man.”

“I was right when I thought Doc would be with Sheridan.”

“Doc wasn’t with Sheriff. Just nearby.” Fillmore stated, “It wasn’t...you weren’t right.”

“You just don’t want to admit that I’m right.”

“You’re not right.”

“Yes I am.”

Fillmore sighed, “You’re a prick.”

Sarge laughed, “You’re just upset that you can’t prove me wrong.”

“I’m upset that you want to throw your life away.” Fil stated, “And that you’re a prick.”

“I’m not throwing my life away,” Sarge hummed, “it’s fine.”

“You just...want to be miserable, don’t you?”

“What? No.”

“Then why are you…” Fil groaned, slowing his car, “Nevermind. Let’s...go back.”

“Why am I what?”

“I said nevermind.” He grumbled, turning the vehicle around.

“Alright,” Sarge’s voice softened, “sorry?”

Fil took a deep breath before joking, “I’ve never heard you apologize before.”

“I don’t do it often.”

“Yeah...you don’t seem like someone who does,” Fillmore nodded.

Sarge hummed, “Not usually, no.”

“Yeah…” Fil said, trying to calm down.

Sarge smiled at Fillmore, “So how was talking to Ramone?”

“Fine,” Fillmore shrugged, “He’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah,” Sarge nodded, “he is.”

“He offered me a beer and then made me help him do graffiti.”

“That… sounds like him.”

“He talked about you a lot,” Fil said.

Sarge was silent for a moment, “What did he say?”

Fil cracked a smile, “Why? Are you nervous?”

“Of course not.”

“You sure?”

Sarge wasn’t sure of anything when he was around Fillmore, “Yes.”

“What do you _think_ Ramone said about you?” Fillmore asked.

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

He grinned, “You gotta have some ideas.”

“... Nope.”

Fil pouted, “Nothing?”

“I’m not going to accidentally tell you something you don’t already know from him,” Sarge rolled his eyes.

“Then I guess you’ll never know what he told me.”

Sarge sighed, “You can’t just tell me?”

“It wouldn’t be as fun, man.” Fil shrugged, grinning.

“I’ll just ask him myself.”

“Pretty sure he was wasted. I don't know if he’ll remember.”

“Just tell me,” Sarge whined.

“You’re cute when you pout.” Fillmore hummed without thinking.

Sarge blushed, “I’m not pouting.”

“Yeah, you are. Like a kid who isn’t getting what they want.” he smiled, blushing, “It’s...uh….whatever. Forget it.”

“Are you blushing?”

“Are you?” he countered.

Sarge paused, “Maybe.”

“Oh.” Fillmore blinked, not expecting him to admit it, “Well...we’re home.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sarge was restless that night, Fil was so smug about whatever Ramone told him. The younger teen had naturally had all the worst things he told Ramone go through his mind. The cruising? The _occasional_ drinking? The fact he’s...queer? That he’s younger than the rest of the town thinks? He’s sure there’s more damning secrets too, but all he can think of is that Ramone could’ve somehow ruined any chance Richard had to…

To what?

Sarge didn’t know. Or maybe he did and just preferred not thinking about it.

Either way, he couldn’t help but worry about what Ramone could’ve said.

The only way he’d know was if he asked Ramone. Because Fillmore refused to tell him. So now he was walking into the tattoo parlor, hoping the hispanic was there. “Ramone?” he called out.

“Yeah, Sarge? What’s up?” Ramone looked up from his couch, “Have you and Fil done anything fun lately?”

“What?” Sarge blinked, “No… what did you tell him yesterday?”

Ramone paused, “You two haven’t... done anything...intimate?”

“No, we _haven’t_.”

“Not even kissing?”

Sarge shook his head, “No. What did you tell him?”

“...holding hands?” Ramone offered, ignoring his question.

“No.”

“Seriously, man?”

“I’m serious, Ramone.”

“...Go bother Sheridan or Doc.” Ramone shrugged, “I told Fil so I’m telling you too.”

“Not until you tell me what you told him yesterday.”

“Did I talk about you to him?” he frowned, “I was painting, hombre, Fil was just helping me organize.”

Sarge nodded, “According to him, yeah.”

“I don’t remember.” he shrugged, “He said he wants to stay in Radiator Springs, though, I remember that.”

“He did?”

“Yup, he was pretty sure of it.”

“Oh,” Sarge nodded.

Ramone smiled, “Said some other stuff too.”

“... what else did he say?”

The man grinned, “He’s single. And I remember him saying something about jealousy.”

Sarge was quiet for a moment, “And you told him to bug Doc or Sheriff instead of you?”

“Oh, yeah, he was being…” Ramone paused, then gestured vaguely, “You know.”

“No… kind of?”

“...yeah you do.”

“I’m going to ask Flo for clarification, you know that, right?”

“Go ahead, little dude,” Ramone nodded.

Sarge rolled his eyes, “Thanks for nothing.”

“No problem. I doubt Flo’ll tell you much.”

“I’m still going to ask her.”

Ramone grinned, “Have fun, tell her I love her.”

Sarge rolled his eyes, “Sure thing, Ramone.”

“I think she just got some stuff in for a new shake too.”

He smiled, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Stay safe, don’t leave Fil alone for too long.” Ramone nodded, refocusing on the magazine that was in his lap.

Sarge left, hoping that Flo would at least be more direct with her answers. She was in the diner, as usual for this time, doing some dishes, and she looked up as soon as the door chime signaled his entry, “Hey Sarge, what can I do ya for?”

Sarge sighed, “Ramone won’t tell me shit. Also he says he loves you.”

Flo smiled, “Bless him. What did you expect him to tell you about? Want anything? I can put on tea if Fil is still in town.”

“He is still in town,” Sarge nodded, “and apparently Ramone told him _something_ about me yesterday.”

“Hm.” Flo hummed, “What’d Ramone say?”

“That Fil wanted to stay here.”

“So, Fil wants to stay here.” she repeated, “That all?”

“He mentioned that Fillmore is single,” Sarge blushed slightly, “and that he said something about jealousy?”

“Oh, good for you.” Flo filled the kettle, “Not the jealousy part, obviously...well, maybe the jealousy part. What’s he jealous about?”

“Ramone wouldn’t tell me.”

She nodded, “Has Fil been weird about anything?”

Sarge shook his head, “Not really?”

“Nothing at all?”

“I don’t know.”

“Work with me, kid, there’s gotta be something that was odd or out of place,” Flo hummed, “Or else why worry?”

“He just… did that thing he does where he lectures me about how I’m ‘throwing my life away’,” Sarge sighed, “and… something about not having to do shit I don’t want to?”

“Well, what are you planning on doing that you don’t want to?”

“I wasn’t planning on anything?” Sarge shrugged, “He said something about not having to get married, which came out of nowhere,” he paused, “ _that’s_ what Ramone told him about, isn’t it?”

“No clue,” Flo shrugged, “Maybe that’s what the jealousy is about.”

“... I don’t know.”

“Clearly. That’s why I’m telling you.”

“... I guess. Thanks Flo.”

“Maybe ask the boy out.” she hummed.

“I’ll think about it.”

“He’s single, and I’m sure he’s interested.”

Sarge frowned, “And if he isn’t?”

Flo winked, “I’m pretty sure of it, Rich.”


	13. Chapter 13

Sarge stared down at the mug of tea as he stood outside Flo’s diner. He couldn’t decide what to do, mostly because Flo was _usually_ right and she seemed really confident. Either Fil likes him and Sarge admits that that’s reciprocated, Fil doesn’t like him and Sarge makes a fool of himself, or they like each other and do nothing about it.

So now what? What’s he willing to risk?

Fillmore was only ever meant to be here temporarily. Sarge would be going off to war soon. He kept hearing Fillmore telling him to live a little. Sarge didn’t think this is what he meant. But maybe it could be. Maybe doing this would change things for the better. If they don’t, Fil will leave and Sarge will just have to get over the infatuation, probably during service.

So it was settled.

He’d do it. And he’d do it now so that he couldn’t talk himself out of it.

Richard adjusted his hold on the tea and started the short walk home. While running through ways to confess, he remembered Fil earlier: calling the house they’ve been sharing home, blushing in the lamplight, and talking with that soft smile like there was a secret only they knew. Now there would be. Now that blush would be Sarge’s to admire. Now they _would_ be _home._

Fillmore is sitting, completely relaxed on the porch, staring out in the distance and Sarge’s heart jumps to his throat. When the younger follows his gaze, it seems like the older teen is watching a pair of birds. 

“Enjoying the view?” Sarge called, trying to calm his nerves as he approached, “I brought you tea.”

Fillmore smiled, “More enjoying the quiet,” he joked.

“Alright, then I’ll keep the tea.” Sarge shrugged, frowning.

“Wait, no,” Fillmore frowned, “come back.”

Sarge flushed, forgetting to breathe when he hears those words, but obeys anyways. Soon enough he’s standing at the edge of the porch rail, holding the mug out to the hippie, “I...need to tell you something.” He looked up, tempted to walk up the stairs if only so they’re on even footing, “I’m queer.”

Fil took the drink, “I-”

“And I’m attracted to you,” Richard cuts him off, tempted to make a run for it now.

Fil surged forward, catching Richard’s lips with his own, the kiss was quick and soft and the younger teen just stared at him once they parted. Fillmore took a deep breath, “I’m… me too?”

“You...too.” he nodded, processing the information.

Fillmore nodded, taking a drink of his tea, “Yeah.”

“...you...too…”

“I’m… attracted to you, I mean.”

“...yeah.” Sarge swallowed, then softly asked, “Can we kiss again?”

Fillmore nodded, “Yeah, we can kiss again.”

Richard smiled, walking up the steps so he was also on the porch, “It can wait, I don’t want your tea to get cold.”

He laughed, “You’re so considerate.”

“No, I’m just…thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Sarge shrugged, staring out at the pair of birds that Fil had been watching, “Just thinking.”

Fillmore hummed, walking over to stand next to Sarge, “Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard,”

“Don’t be a prick.”

Fillmore laughed, “I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled.

“Why not?”

“I don’t like it?” he looked up at Fil.

Fillmore sighed, “Alright, I won’t call you that.”

“There’s gotta be names you don’t like,” Sarge hummed.

“Not that I can think of,” Fillmore shook his head.

The younger tilted his head, “Really?”

“Really.”

Sarge shrugged, “Not even from your family?”

“No,” Fillmore shook his head, “not really.”

“Oh,” he nodded, turning back to the birds, “Okay.”

“If I think of one, I’ll tell you.”

“Let’s...go inside,” Sarge hummed, walking to his door, “You can tell me about how you spent the last few hours.”

Fillmore smiled, following the shorter teen, “I didn’t do much,”

“Just watched the birds?” he asked, entering his house and sitting on the couch.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Hey, I...you know this isn’t…” Sarge paused, “I’m still going. When I can.”

Fillmore sighed, “It’s your decision, Rich. If you really want to then I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you,” he smiled slightly, “It’ll only be a few years and then I’ll be back.”

Fillmore was quiet for a moment, “Yeah… just a few years.”

“We can write each other,” Sarge offered, “And…” he took Fil’s hand, “we’ll...have the next few months together...if you’re willing.”

“Of course I’m willing,” Fillmore whispered.

He smiled softly, squeezing Fil’s hand, “...great....are you okay with...I mean, can...I lean on you?”

“Yeah Sarge, you can lean on me.”

The smaller hesitated, then laid against Fil’s arm, mumbling, “Thanks.”

Fillmore smiled, enjoying the contact, “You don’t need to thank me, Rich.”

“I’m...used to needing to thank people.” Sarge admitted, letting his eyes close for a while before opening them again, “How’s your tea?”

“It’s good,” Fillmore hummed.

Sarge smiled, “I’m glad.” He relaxed against Fil, “What’d you do before coming here? You said you were in school?”

“Go to class, go to protests, maybe go to a party here or there,” Fillmore shrugged, “that’s pretty much it, what about you?”

“Before Radiator Springs?” Sarge clarified.

“Yeah.”

“Um...I grew up in Georgia, so I was there, did school, helped out dad when he needed it….” Sarge paused, “Cruised when I could.”

Fillmore nodded, “When did you come here?”

“Probably half a year? Maybe more. I haven’t kept track.”

“You haven’t kept track?”

Richard shrugged, “No, not really. I can ask Lizzie though, I think she keeps track.”

Fillmore hummed, “It doesn’t matter that much.”

“Then I won’t.”

Fillmore hugged Sarge against him, “It’s up to you, Rich.”

“I know,” he said, “I just don’t care about...this is my home now. I haven’t spoken to anyone back home since I left, so...it just...doesn’t matter.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he nodded.

“What about you? Your family, I mean.”

Fillmore hummed, “Got a couple older brothers, nothing too interesting.”

Sarge nodded, “I’m an only child. I think. I know mom was hoping for another son when I left.”

“You give off only child vibes,” Fillmore nodded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know how to explain it, you just do”

“Should I be offended?” Sarge chuckled.

“Nah man, don’t be offended.”

“Are you sure, hippie? Sounds like you’re mocking me.”

“I’m positive.”

The smaller teen sat up and sighed, “ugh...Flo’s going to know...”

“Yeah?” Fillmore asked, “she is?”

“She...we talked.” he admitted, “Hence the tea that you haven’t touched.”

Fillmore took a drink of his tea, “You… talked.”

“Well she talked and I listened.”

“How’d that go?”

“I told you I...enjoy your company, so good,” he mumbled, “I assume.”

Fillmore nodded, “That’s good.”

“...yeah...how’s your tea?”

“It’s good,” Fillmore smiled, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he starts to relax again, “You’re really calm.”

Fillmore shrugged, “No use worrying about things we can’t change.”

Sarge frowned, disagreeing but not totally sure what to say, “Oh.”

“What’re you thinkin about, Sarge?”

“Not sure yet,” he answered, mostly unsure of whether he should be honest with Fil at that moment.

“You worry a lot, don’t you?” Fillmore laughed softly.

Richard shrugged, then after a moment, nodded, “Guess so.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about Flo, if that’s what you were thinking about.”

“I’m not…” he paused, then said, “not about Flo...or Ramone.”

Fillmore nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Sher isn’t...he’s queer, and very open about it,” Sarge continued, “I don’t know. I’m just...not used to it.”

“That’s fine,” Fillmore stated, “I told you, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“How are you so relaxed?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Sarge nodded a while, then requested, “hold me?”

Fillmore hummed, “Aren’t I kind of already?”

“....closer? I don’t...I’m not used to it. But it’s nice.”

Fillmore complied, “Yeah, yeah I can hold you closer.”

“You’re good at this,” Richard marvelled, more to himself than Fil.

Fillmore tilted his head, “Am I?”

“Better than I am.”

“I think you’re doing pretty good, you’re just… nervous?”

“Yeah, but not...I mean,” Sarge struggled to choose words, “I’m not used to this part. Or people knowing. I’m not nervous that it’s you.”

“You’re not used to this part,” Fillmore repeated.

“Yeah. The...touchy-feely part.”

He sighed, “That’s a damn shame, Rich. Because that’s one of the best parts.”

Richard felt himself stop breathing, his heart beating in his ears as he mumbled, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed, “Guess you’ll have to show me then.”

Fillmore grinned, “Guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally meant to be a one shot, MAYBE two chapters


End file.
